The Locket

"There is no pleasure to me without communication: there is not so much as a sprightly thought comes into my mind that it does not grieve me to have produced alone, and that I have no one to tell it to." - Michel Eyquem De Montaigne

The kettle whistled loudly, spewing steam and flecks of boiling water from the lid that never quite fit properly. Ginny paused mid-sentence from the book she was reading and went tend to it.

"Green for me," Ron croaked, "and make it snappy. If I don't hear the ending today, I might go mad."

Ginny grinned as she steeped the leaves in the hot water, and discreetly added a few drops of the potion she made with her purchases from Neville's shop. "Who would you prefer," she asked. "Marianne or Elinor?"

Ron watched her back and sighed softly. When will she realize that I've always known what she is up to, he thought. "Marianne," he said aloud. "Eleanor may seem better at first, she is rather sensible and composed. But Marianne...she has spontaneity, passion..."

Ginny caught the slight change of tone in his voice, the miniscule wisp of sadness that his resolve hadn't managed to completely disguise. He still blames himself, she thought, as she threaded her fingers through the wisps of steam rising from the mugs. He seeks forgiveness from her that he will never give himself. Her shoulders hunched slightly as memories best forgotten weighed heavily upon her mind. Of all people, Ron, you knew her best. Surely you know that you never had to ask for forgiveness? It was already given. "Well," she said, as she placed the cup by his head, along with a straw, "Let's finish this then, shall we?"

~~~

Felicity waited by the door, trying to adjust the collar about her neck. Her pinky finger was tapping uncontrollably on the wall, a nervous habit that had given her the nickname she so detested. Control, she admonished the offending digit, but in vain.

Caught up in her battle against her own body, she did not hear the soft pop heralding the arrival of a short, reedy-looking wizard. She jumped when she saw his small, dark eyes upon her.

"You are the slave for Master Malfoy?" he asked, his voice high-pitched and rather feminine. Felicity struggled to control her extreme amusement at the incongruity between the man's voice and his sex.

"I am," she said, her voice trembling from barely-suppressed mirth.

The man's eyes flickered with pity as he mistook her tone for fear. "Will you summon your Master?"

"He knows I am leaving and does not wish to be disturbed." The words emerged from her lips slowly, haltingly for fear that it would end in a giant whoop of laughter. Please don't speak again, she prayed. I don't have the strength to hold the laugh back anymore.

As if he read her mind, he nodded curtly, seized her arm, and disapparated.

When Felicity regained her senses, she found herself inside a small room, beautifully furnished, the small man nowhere to be seen.

"You're prettier than I thought." The voice was low and seductive, and the statement was made only a few notches above a whisper.

Felicity spun around and was greeted by the sight of a girl, lounging on a cushion. She had a pale pointed face with high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes, surrounded by masses of straight white-blonde hair. Her features projected a regal beauty, and her air was one of self-assurance, imparted by an upbringing of privilege. "You may call me Mistress Sabina."

Remembering her place, Felicity clumsily started the elaborate bow required of her, but was stopped by the throat-clearing of her temporary Mistress.

"You don't get much practice, do you?" she said, sounding amused, though her facial expression remained unchanged. "No matter, I don't stand on certain formalities. What shall I call you?"

"My name is Felicity."

Sabina laughed outright. "What an ironic name for a slave. Too long, anyway. Nickname?"

Felicity's mind whirred furiously for a few seconds until her mouth seized the moment. "Flick," she said, and hated herself for it immediately afterward.

"Flick it shall be," Sabina said, straightening herself to a sitting position. "Thank goodness Father managed to procure you for the trip. I was in desperate need of a personal slave."

"May I have permission to speak, Mistress?"

Sabina raised an eyebrow. "Just raise your hand when you wish to speak. And ask."

"What happened to you previous slave?"

Sabina shrugged. "She was a fool and of no use to me." She plucked a piece of fruit from the table next to her. "I told pater, and he sent her away. I've had to live without a slave for some time." She looked up at the last statement, and appraised Felicity for a moment. "Father assured me you were smart. For my sake, I hope so."

"Does Mistress grant permission for me to ask in what regard this previous slave was lacking?"

Sabina raised her eyebrows in mild surprise at the query, but seemed to decide it was a fair question. "She was deft enough at her tasks, I suppose. Talking to her, however, was like speaking to a wall." Felicity look no more enlightened than she was before, so Sabina continued. "Let us say you speak five languages," she said. "You speak these languages and you can also sing like an angel, and that is all. To a baker, you are useless, but to a king you are a prized possession." She leaned forward slightly. "Worth is relative to purpose. A baker is not greater than a king, but there are things that a king prizes that are worthless to a baker. Do you understand?"

Oh yes, I understand, Felicity thought, seething inside. I am a prized thing. "Now in your example, Mistress," she said, unable to control her mouth. "Are you the baker or the king?"

Before Felicity could finish her internal stream of self-cursing, she was surprised to see Sabina lean forward and release a hearty chuckle. "Oh you are a funny thing. Well done, pater, well done."

Felicity was not sure how to feel or respond, but she inclined her head, not trusting herself enough to reply. Any such expectations were relieved, however, when Master Malfoy himself entered the room, wearing a large smile that rendered him even more attractive.

"Sabina, my dear," he said, opening his arms.

The girl was in her father's embrace within moments, and the two shared a private moment, leaving Felicity in an uncomfortable silence in the corner.

"Ah, the slave has arrived," Malfoy said, his eyes resting on her. "I trust she meets your needs?"

"Perfectly, Pater. She seems a spry thing, doesn't she? Let's hope severe disciplining will not be required. I could not bear to go unattended again."

Felicity tightened her fists and seethed. How dare they speak of me as an object, her mind screamed. Malfoy seemed to catch a shift in her expression, and fixed her with a look that could have withered a forest.

"Let's hope," he said softly, dangerously, "That this one serves her purpose. You told her of your previous slave?"

Sabina looked mildly puzzled, but nodded. "I did, Pater."

The side of his lip quirked upwards, and he inclined his head, his eyes never leaving Felicity's. "Good." He broke his eye contact with her, and pressed his lips to his daughter's shining mane of hair. "Prepare yourself. We leave in five minutes. The apparition carriages are waiting." With an impressive swirl of his dark robes, he disappeared with a barely audible 'pop'.

Sabina turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Pater doesn't seem to like you very much, does he?"

Felicity suppressed a sarcastic retort, and inclined her head. "Perhaps, Mistress, he is not used to me yet."

"Perhaps," Sabina said, regarding her new slave carefully. "In any case, we should depart. And since you have never served as an attending slave before, I am told, allow me to grant you a mercy in reminding you of your place. Always maintain about two paces behind me. You head should be down, your eyes down. Never speak unless I give you permission, which I will do by doing this," she waved her finger in a downward motion. "And again, raise your hand to speak, which should not be often. Do you understand?"

"Ye-" Felicity started, but immediately realized her error as Sabina's eyes glittered dangerously. "I apologize, Mistress."

"Good," Sabina said. "I hope this will be the only reprimanding I must supply over the course of our trip. Let us go."

Keeping her posture as per her mistress' wishes, Felicity followed Sabina out the door.

~~~

Neville was watering his pufferpod when the front door of his shop slammed open, noted by the wild ringing of the bells attached to it. Damn it, he thought. I'll be killed at this rate if I keep forgetting to throw the bolt.

"I'm closed," he yelled, hoping the unknown customer was not of the dangerous variety. In that regard, he had been lucky so far.

There was no reply, and more than a little alarmed, he pocketed his wand, and moved to the front. A hooded figure stood in the corner, and though her face was covered, he knew her instantly.

"Ginny," he said. "What on earth are you doing here? It's completely past curfew."

"You're working still." Her voice barely cracked a whisper and was so strained and harsh that Neville suppressed a shudder. "And your door was unwarded. I threw the bolt for you."

"One of the benefits of living where you work," he replied. "And I can't afford to place wards."

She did not respond, but lowered her hood, revealing the fact that she had obviously been crying.
"Ginny," he started, but was interrupted.

"I'm so sorry Neville...I'm so sorry...so sorry." Her sorrow, unrestrained by the presence of her brother, was great and unstoppable now that she had let it start to flow.

Neville could only fetch a blanket and wrap her tightly in it before guiding her to the back room. He placed her beside him on his cot, and lent her his shoulder for the next twenty minutes.

Her sobs finally started to abate, and she wiped her eyes, ashamed of her lapse in control. "I'm so sorry, Neville," she said, unable to meet his face. "Usually I'm so good, but today..." She pulled the edges of the blanket together. "I think...I know...Ron knows now that I lace his tea with potion...to help him sleep."

"I don't understand why this upsets you," Neville replied. "He knows that you're trying to help."

"By putting him to sleep? He'll think that I don't care for him, that looking after him is a burden."

"Ginny..."

"But Neville...sometimes it is...sometimes I just can't...I can't bear it. It's easier for me when he sleeps..."

He sighed and shook his head. "You don't need to be ashamed. You're only human." He paused to place a callused finger under her chin, and force her to look into his eyes. "Ron sacrificed a great deal, all of us know that. But you cannot do this to yourself. Ron would agree with me, I know that. Because above all things, Ginny, he loves you."

Her gaze did not waver as he spoke, but something softened in her expression, and when he removed his finger, she did not turn away. They remained thus for a few moments, when Ginny, made uncomfortable by the intensity of the emotion passing between them, cleared her throat and turned attention to her blanket.

"It looks expensive," she said, running her hands down its length. "I didn't realize your shop did so well."

He laughed heartily at her remark, a sound unfamiliar to both their ears. "Believe it or not," he said. "I actually knit that myself."

When she raised her eyebrows, he reached under his cot and pulled out a small basket, filled with yarn and a pair of knitting needles.

"I would never have believed it all those years ago if I was told that Neville Longbottom would be a knitter," she replied, smiling back. You must teach me."

"Times make a man do things he wouldn't normally do," he said sadly. "But there's always hope for better. And of course I will," he added.

"You truly believe that?"

"I do," he replied resolutely. "Even you must have a few days better than others."

She thought for a moment before answering. "I did have a nice occurrence only a few days ago." At his raised eyebrow she tucked back a few strands of loose hair and continued. "A few days ago, I found a shop that I had never seen before, and since it looked quite nice compared to the rabble around it, I decided to see inside."

"And then?"

"Well, I found you."

He looked momentarily startled by her forwardness, but gave a small smile and looked at his feet. This time, it was Ginny's turn to force his face towards hers. "I have seen very few from the old days," she said softly. "It's good to have someone to talk to." She paused for a moment. "It's good to see you again."

He smiled, and this time, did not look away.

~~~

"The Temple of Kali is surrounded by a large set of ancient wards," Sabina was saying. "So we will apparate in these carriages at the spot marked out for it, and from there make the rest of the trip with the horses and carriages."

Felicity was half-listening, her focus directed inwards at her predicament. She had not yet decided what to make of her new mistress. On one hand, Sabina was everything that she could hope for - young and clever. Yet on the other hand, her society had inured her to her status as a slave-owner, and had deeply instilled in her the means with how they ought to be treated. In another setting, Felicity thought, I might have liked her.

"You're not listening to me, are you?"

Felicity jerked to attention to find Sabina regarding her, a slight smirk on her face.

"The journey is long, and my company is not what you are accustomed to," Sabina said. "I will let your lack of attention slide. If you do this when I have company however, I will be very displeased. Is that clear?"

Felicity nodded.

The carriage stopped and the same man who fetched Felicity from Master Nott entered. "The mass-apparition will take place shortly, Mistress," he said. "Your father wishes you to be prepared for it."

Felicity had never apparated in such a manner before, and a part of her was filling with a tingling anticipation. Sabina noticed her look and laughed. "If this is your first time," she said. "You'd better ready yourself. It may not be pleasant."

Before Felicity could raise her hand, a strange feeling started in her chest, and moved steadily down to her belly where it remained, like an uncomfortable weight. The next thing she remembered was blinking, and when she opened her eyes, they had arrived.

Sabina clapped her hands together excitedly. "Flick," she said. "Look outside."

Following her mistress' commands, Felicity drew back the curtains of their carriage to reveal a remarkable sight.

Though it was raining, she could see that many more carriages surrounded them now, with varying degrees of size and opulence. "It's remarkable," she breathed.

Sabina ignored Felicity's lack in slave propriety, but her expression made Felicity aware of her silent reprobation. "You may speak freely for now," she said acidly before continuing. "There are two others from the European delegation. Blaise Zabini and Marcus Flint are here as well."

"European delegation? Then are other...continents represented as well? Mistress," Felicity added hastily.

"Yes," said Sabina, secretly pleased to see that Felicity had some education. Her last slave was uneducated and incapable of real conversation - but then, most slaves were. "I do not know all the details, but there was some tome recently discovered. The Dark Lord wishes to reveal something, and so here we are."

It must be something important, Felicity thought, for him to summon representatives from all the continents. The Dark Lord is said to rarely leave his stronghold.

After his defeat of Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort destroyed the Ministry of Magic as it had been, and rebuilt it with his followers in positions of great power. The task was not difficult. After Potter's demise, most did not have the will to fight anymore. Stripped away was a wizard's right to use his inherent magic. Now, every new wand produced had a 'magic meter' installed that tracked magic use, and payments were required at the end of each month. Most wizards were so busy trying to survive, that they had no means of rebelling. Any caught with a meterless wand were punished swiftly and severely, though removing the meters was almost impossible. There was a 'Ministry' established in each country, and seven continental Ministries to bind them. The Ministry of Magic in London was demolished and rebuilt in the style of the gothic cathedrals of old, visible to muggles and wizards alike, and it was there that Lord Voldemort resided.

"The meetings themselves will not concern me," Sabina was saying, forcing Felicity from her reverie. "However, delegates commonly bring a few family members, I always assumed for company, or for visiting purposes." She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I never really thought about it."

"Or perhaps for the Dark Lord to threaten if things do not go the way he wishes," Felicity added contemplatively.

Sabina fixed her with a thoughtful stare, but remained silent. "Perhaps," she finally said.

The door rattled violently, and Malfoy appeared once more, his hair slightly mussed, but otherwise looking perfectly in order, as always. "You look quite serious, my dear," he said, nothing the look on Sabina's face. "I hope service has not been subpar," he added, fixing Felicity with a look.

"Nothing of the sort, Pater," Sabina said. "In fact," here she turned to look at Felicity, who was beginning to squirm slightly under dual Malfoy scrutiny, "I rather approve of her attendance. Is there any way to persuade Nott to sell her?"

Malfoy looked surprised, and it was all Felicity could do to withhold a small snort of amusement. "Was she really?" he said. "I found her rather insolent, if truth be told, upon acquisition. I only maintained her as you insisted upon a slave with some means of tangible conversation. I do not see why of course." Here, his look soured. "Slaves, I feel, do much better when allowed fewer privileges." He smirked slightly. "Keeps them from getting ideas. From wanting more."

Felicity could have punched him then and there, her life be damned. Sabina's face flickered with something that might have been apology, but it was gone in a moment, and she laughed carelessly. "Oh Pater," she replied. "You must think me foolish if I discuss more than my comfort and the weather with her. But since I must be alone, and I do not wish for the company of, say, that bore Malinda Flint, I simply must have another being to interact with. It is no more complicated than that. Besides," she said, after wrapping her arms around his neck. "I do so wish to make the others jealous, when they see how well mine can keep me entertained."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but he pecked his daughter on the cheek and placed a small parcel in her lap. "This is for you," he said with a smile. "My daughter will be the most beautiful girl at the banquet in a few days." And with that, he disappeared.

"Oh," Sabina she gasped, opening the box and revealing the white material of a sari. "It's lovely."

Felicity, sulky and irritated, chose to ignore Sabina. Turning her back slightly to her mistress, she returned her gaze to the window.

"If you wish to be insolent, Flick, there are ways to remedy it."

Surprised, Felicity spun around to be confronted by Sabina's cold glare. "Do not assume because I give you liberties, that you may forget your place. You are, above all, a slave and I am your mistress."

"So a right to my own life is out of the question then?" Felicity spat before she could stop herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide at her own insolence, but it was too late.

"I feel it is time for a lesson. But don't worry," she said with a smirk that made her bear an uncanny resemblance to her father. "I won't be too cruel for your first time." She grabbed the handle of the door, and pushed it open. Rain came rushing in, wetting the first few centimeters on the edge of the entrance. "Up there is where slaves normally travel. Up there is where you belong."

Felicity stared for a few moments at the downpour, before striding to the door and grasping the slick frame to pull herself up.

"By the way," Sabina added. "I really did not have time to have an overhang fitted on our carriage. I assumed my attendant would travel inside anyway." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose we all make mistakes."

Gritting her teeth, Felicity pulled herself up to the roof, and sat in a square shaped indentation in the center. She was soaked through in a matter of seconds, but refused to allow herself sympathy at her predicament. Perhaps this will help me learn my place, she reasoned. Perhaps it is time that I stopped hoping for something else. With a pang, she was reminded of Vincent. He was right. Hope was never a comfort. It's just hiding the fact that tomorrow will be no different than today.